


I'll Always Come

by TheShyGirlinPurple



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Parental Lestrade, Sad Sherlock, Vulnerable Sherlock, a bit of Protective John, comforting lestrade, warning for metions of minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4918303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShyGirlinPurple/pseuds/TheShyGirlinPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lestrade says something he shouldn't can he gain Sherlock's forgiveness and trust? Especially after Sherlock reveals new information about his father?  It is a BBC Sherlock fanfic. It's slightly AU since Sherlock's dad dies. Takes place anytime after a Study In Pink and before Reichenbach Fall. It's a cute little Sherlock/Lestrade friendship piece, not romantic more father/son with slightly insecure Sherlock and little bit of protective John thrown in.  Many apologies for any mistakes. It may not be that realistic but it was fun to write. If it is similar to anyone else's I apologize it was not intentional.  Warning: mentions of minor character death and upset emotions. None of these characters are mine. I hope you like it. <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lestrade hadn't done it on purpose. Why would he? Sure Sherlock was annoying, rude, arrogant, and insensitive; but he honestly didn't mean to. It had been a long week: he fought with his wife, got almost no sleep due to constant hard cases, and Anderson was driving him mad. All Sherlock did was be himself; but today that was just too much.

The team was spread out across the empty flat all doing their jobs the best they could which was still disgustingly poor in Sherlock's eyes. Though the flat was void of any real character with dingy white walls, bare wooden floors, and lack of furniture it still told Sherlock a lot. Sherlock flounced about the flat with a tired looking John trailing at his heels. Sherlock instantly started jumping about the corpse that was stretched out in front of them. The woman's blonde hair was dirty and her clothing was covered in mud. He began to shout about something the yard had missed. He was just so loud, was he always that loud? Sherlock started commenting on the woman's love life or rather lack there of. Did he always move around this much when making deductions? Sherlock pulled a flashlight out and began to examine a stain on the woman's coat. Looking at it made Lestrade's headache worse...when had he gotten a headache?

"Where is her clutch?" Sherlock shouted springing up.

"There isn't one," Lestrade snarled.

"Yes there was,' Sherlock said flatly. "Now where is it?"

"I said there wasn't one," Lestrade practically snarled. 

"Well you were wrong," Sherlock deadpanned. 

Lestrade could feel himself losing control. "I said there wasn't a clutch here. You were wrong. Do you get that wrong! You were probably wrong about everything else too. Maybe you're too stupid to be of any use here. You're to despicable and annoying to be around if you don't know what you're doing. You may have been faking it with other cases too and we just couldn't tell. You are an embarrassment. So just go, we don' t need you!" Lestrade ranted, shouting at the top of his lungs. Sherlock looked at him with wide and so did John from where he was leaning against the wall. 

Sherlock opened his mouth "I-" But Lestrade cut him off. 

"Just get out of here freak," hissed Lestrade. And with that Sherlock turned on his heels and fled. John stared after him for a moment before hurriedly following after him. As soon as john was out of sight Lestrade realized the whole room was staring at him. He looked down at the corpse trying to figure out what had just happened. "Um let's call it a night guys," he called out in a tight voice. They all sent him sideways glances. Some looked sympathetic and some just looked confused. "We, uh we won't get much more done tonight. We'll just call in the night watchmen," he continued looking down at his feet. They spread out and quietly mumbled while they began to clean up for the night. Lestrade continued to stare for a few minutes before slowly making his way outside.

Lestrade began wandering around the property not wanting to go home and sleep on the couch yet. He walked across the rather large lawn toward a line of trees standing tall in the fading light. It was beginning to get colder now in preparation for winter and the lawn was already brown in a few patches. Lestrade began to get lost in his own mind as he stepped softly across the grass. As Lestrate began to calm down he started to feel guilt settle in the pit of his stomach. He tried to shake it off. This was Sherlock he was thinking about and Sherlock did not feel emotions. Though he knew this wasn't quite true it seemed to ease the guilt a little bit. Plus Sherlock was always insulting others so it was only fair he told himself. Besides Sherlock was wrong this time so it wasn't bad for him to be mad at the genius for being to self-absorbed to admit his mistake. He felt a bit better and walked back to where his team was still cleaning up for the night. As he watched one of the newer workers came up to him hesitantly hiding behind her long dark hair.

"S-sir did you want to see this?" she questioned nervously holding up a black clutch in a plastic evidence bag. The D.I. felt his stomach drop. It was just like Sherlock had said. He stuttered for a moment unsure what to say. 

"I'll take a look at it tomorrow," he finally got out without looking at her eyes. She nodded and walked away. He turned away to appear as though he was examining the corpse. Now all of the entire team thought he was a jerk and an idiot. And it was all Sherlock Holmes' fault. Only it wasn't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is hurt Lestrade's words but he can't risk showing it. Even if it does nearly break him.

Sherlock stared at Lestrade. Had Lestrade really just said that? He felt frozen in place. He opened his mouth to- well he really wasn’t sure what to say. Which he supposed was a good thing since he couldn’t seem to get any words out anyway. And then Lestrate said that word and he was out the door before he knew what had happened. He stood in the frigid air staring into the diming night. He waited by the road for a cab to appear. He felt John’s presents next to him.   
John stood awkwardly next to his friend, sending concerned looks at the side of Sherlock’s head. “I’m sure he did-“ John started but Sherlock cut him off.   
“I’m fine John” he said sharply.   
“Yes I know but-“ John tried but he was silenced by the glare Sherlock shot him.   
‘It’s fine John,” he stared back at the road. They stood in a tense silence for a few minutes until a cab passed and Sherlock jumped into action and flagged the cab down. He hurriedly got into the cab and John scrambled in after him. The silence followed them into the flat where Sherlock sprinted up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door shut. John had been hoping to get some food into Sherlock seeing as he had had cases everyday this week. He knew the detective hadn’t eaten since four days ago. Lestrade had cases lined up one after the other not leaving John time to give another lecture to the idiot about his health. Despite what Sherlock thought he was not immortal. Nor was he as insensitive as he tried to make people believe. John knew better, he knew Sherlock no matter how strong he seemed was in fact breakable. And right now he was afraid Sherlock had just been broken. And John was right. Not many people had that power of Sherlock but Lestrade was one of them along side Mrs. Hudson and John himself. Sherlock was broken and it was all because of one man’s words.

John went about ordering food seeing as it was a little late to be cooking and he was rather hungry and he couldn’t run off of fumes like Sherlock could. He decided he would order for Sherlock and stuff in the fridge if he didn’t eat it. There was room near the disembodied arm Sherlock had “borrowed” two days ago for some strange experiment. He had only heard silence come from Sherlock’s room so he decided to check on Sherlock he knocked on the door and got no reply so after a few minutes he opened the door and peeked in. He saw Sherlock sitting on the edge of his bed staring forward blankly. He didn’t even seem to notice John. John could see the glint of unshed tears in Sherlock’s eyes which startled him more than anything else Sherlock had ever done which said a lot. He left the room and turn on the telly pretending that everything was fine. But it wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it is a bit late I meant to upload it earlier today but all well. Sorry for it being a bit short also I had a lot of tests in school this week and was pressed for time. I hope you like it! Thanks!!! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade decides he needs to make things right with Sherlock before it's too late...but is it already too late?

Sherlock sat on the edge of his bed staring at the wall blankly. He already knew Lestrade hated him so it didn’t matter he told himself. He didn’t care what Lestrade thought. He was too stupid to see that Sherlock had been right and he shouldn’t waste his time with something that stupid. Yet his chest hurt when he thought about the words Lestrade said. He had thought Lestrade wanted him around. Even when he had teased him Lestrade seemed secretly impressed or even proud. Sherlock felt so stupid for the feeling of shame surging through him. It was so embarrassing but he had wanted to please Lestrade. Sherlock knew Lestrate sometimes bragged about him to other cop friends and he knew it was ridiculous but he liked to think he was worth the praise of Lestrade. He shook his head trying to clear his mind.  
“Completely idiotic,” he mumbled to himself. I shouldn’t care what Lestrade says. I shouldn’t care what anyone says his mind screamed at him. But it didn’t ease the sadness or erase the frown on his face. No matter what he told himself he did believe the comments a very select few said to him. And insults from John, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Lestrade hurt more than anything. Okay sometime Mycroft too. Mycroft he would be disappointed at the attachment and need for conformation he had developed. But Lestrade was there and had help and even disciplined him. And Lestrade would only tell him if that’s what he really thought. Perhaps Sherlock was wrong when he thought Lestrade had begun to think of him a son. Again he felt incredibly stupid but he had thought of him as a father. It was only a few weeks ago when he had dreamed of the time his father hadn’t shown up to the breakfast at school when he was young and Sherlock had to sit there and try to appear like he wasn’t crying inside. In the dream sometimes his dad appeared at the end but this time the figure that appeared was Lestrade. He had ignored the comforting feeling left by the dream and the fleeting image of Lestrade he wanted to label as dad. Maybe Sherlock was wrong but he had been sure about the clutch. Lestrade must have only liked Sherlock for his ability to solve cases and as soon as he didn’t have a use he was kicked to the curb. He felt like a stupid child now but he had felt like Lestrade was beginning to look at him like a son.   
How had he let Lestrade become this important to him?

Lestrade walked slowly out of the flat and hailed a cab. He pulled out his phone and glanced at it to see that he had a text from John. He clicked on it hesitantly. It said what the heck was that about? Lestrade decided it was best to ignore the question seeing as he didn’t have an answer. Instead he just sent back how bad is it? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He clicked nervously on the reply that came a few minutes later. There were tears in his eyes. Tears from Sherlock? He felt his stomach clench. Sherlock was not supposed to cry. Ever. He felt a strange need to protect Sherlock and to know that he had hurt Sherlock, well it all but destroyed him. He wanted to be seen as trustworthy and someone who would actually be there for Sherlock. He had secretly thought Sherlock had kind of begun to look up to him in his own way but he was probably disgusted by him now. I’m on my way to fix this Lestrade sent back. Maybe you should wait until tomorrow and give him some more time John sent back. The tired man just shook his head and typed quickly no I need to fix this now. If he didn’t Sherlock would never forget him. He had to get Sherlock to forgive him while his defenses were slightly lowered by Sherlock standards. The cab pulled up in front of Baker Street Lestrade stepped out. It took a few moments outside the door before he gathered the courage to go up and knock on the door. John opened it almost instantly.   
“He’s in his room,” John said sharply with a cold stare. Lestrade couldn’t blame him. The two of them were very protect of each other despite not knowing each other all that long. Lestrade nodded silently and walked slowly up to Sherlock’s room. They didn’t really have the type of relationship where they could just go into each other’s room but this night was different. John saw Lestrade hesitating and sighed. He pulled a take-out box out of a bag on the table and handed it to Lestrate.   
“Give him this,” John paused, “Don’t screw this up,” Lestrade looked up and shot him a grateful smile.  
“Thanks” he whispered before turning back to the closed door. He tried not to grimace at the grease seeping through the bottom of the box. Should Sherlock really eat this since his body was desperate for nutrients right about now, then again anything would be an improvement and Sherlock could definitely use the calories. John turned and went back to the sitting area. He knocked on the wooden door hesitantly and heard a shuffling sound from inside.   
“I said I’m fine John,” Sherlock shouted as he flung open the door. He froze for a moment with wide eyes when he came face to face with Lestrade rather than John. After a few seconds he looked down. Lestrade knew it was bad that Sherlock hadn’t been able to tell who was at the door and Sherlock knew that Lestrade knew that. Sherlock swiftly turned around and strode back into the room and plopped himself down onto his bed to resume staring at the wall.   
“Hey Sherlock John gave me this to bring to you,” Lestrade said from the door holding up the box. And I think we should talk,” he set the food down on the bedside table.   
“Pushing professional boundaries are we now?” Sherlock said unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.  
“Since when did you care about boundaries of any kind?” Lestrade returned trying in vain to bring some humor into the situation. Sherlock didn’t bat an eyelash. “Look this conversation is purely personal,” Lestrade tried to gain a reaction from Sherlock.  
“We don’t need to talk everything is perfectly fine,” Sherlock stated coldly.   
“I think we do,” Lestrade insisted searching for any kind of emotion from Sherlock.  
“Right need to keep me happy so I can keep working on cases but the minute I’m wrong it doesn’t matter anymore. Then you have no use for me,” Sherlock’s voice was practically dripping venom but it barely covered the desperation underneath as though he wanted Lestrade to prove him wrong. Lestrate was shocked into silence. He didn’t think Sherlock felt this way. It was almost as if he was insecure. He hadn’t thought Sherlock could experience such a flawed and human emotion as insecurity. It scared him even more that he had the power to strip Sherlock of at least some of his arrogance. It obviously meant he had gained some level of trust from Sherlock and now he had gone and probably destroyed it. He had known on some level of coarse that Sherlock trusted him and that Sherlock wasn’t as strong as he seemed. Lestrade had been there during detoxing and had Sherlock gripping onto him desperate for support and comfort but that hadn’t exactly been a conscious choice on Sherlock’s part. Perhaps it had meant more than he had thought. He was about to reply when Sherlock spoke first “And now you’re back because you found out I was right but you’re all still too stupid to know what it means. So you’ve come to ask for help again but first you need to pretend that you actually might care the slightest bit so I’ll just jump right back in and solve all of your little problems,” Sherlock ranted, his long arms gesturing wildly. It was getting harder to keep the hurt out of his voice and Lestrade could sense it beginning to come through.   
“Sherlock you were right about the case Sherlock but, I didn’t come to get your help. Well I mean we probably need you but that’s not why I’m here. I’m not here to talk to you as a professional at all. I-I wanted to talk to you as a friend.” His voice caught on the word friend, they had never used it before. “I shouldn’t have said what I did back there and I didn’t mean any of it honest,” it was his turn to sound desperate but he hid it even less than Sherlock.   
“Right long week: bad cases, problems at home, lack of sleep,” Sherlock’s voice was controlled and he still didn’t look at Lestrade.   
“That’s no excuse for what I said,” Lestrade looked down at his feet and was surprised to see Sherlock glance at him out of the corner of his eye. Encouraged he kept talking. “You don’t have to work on the case if you don’t want to.” He look up hopefully at Sherlock but he had started to harden again.   
“I’m not some little girl with petty feelings,” Sherlock spat.  
“I never said you were, I said some awful things. Anyone would be hurt by that,” he paused ‘I know I would.”   
“I’m not anyone,” Sherlock reminded him still staring at the wall.  
“No you’re not,” Lestrade agreed. “But you can still feel things Sherlock! You can still show emotion!” he was getting progressively louder. “It’s okay,” he said his voice softening. “Even you have a right to be hurt by what I said,” he was practically whispering now. At this Sherlock turned and looked at him. “I don’t have to fake caring because I really do-erm-care,” he practically coughed the last bit looking down again. Sherlock was still looking at him, searching for any hint that he may be lying or trying to manipulate him. Lestrade took a few steps closer so he was standing right beside Sherlock’s bed looking down at him.   
Sherlock seemed to be debating something for a few moments as he looked up at the older man. “I-I didn’t fake things about any cases,” Sherlock whispered looking up at Lestrade with sad eyes. Lestrade felt a tug on his heart as the detective now looked like a small child trying to convince his parents he was innocent. “Am-am I r-really despicable?” his voice shook as he asked. His eyes were still searching Lestrade’s face for an answer but now they were glazed and shiny.   
“No Sherlock you’re not, I was angry and I know you were right about the cases. I shouldn’t have said that,” It was all Lestrade could do not to scoop the young detective up. He couldn’t have been more stunned at what happened next. Sherlock seemed to think about what he just said for a few seconds before suddenly flinging his arms around the D.I.’s middle. He buried his face in the dark, fleece coat he was still wearing. Unsure what to do Lestrade stood perfectly still at first then slowly let his instincts take over and he carefully slid down and sat on the bed and wrapped his arms around the detective.   
Even though Sherlock’s head was now on Lestrade’s shoulder he still had trouble hearing what Sherlock said next. “I don’t want to be a freak,” he said it so quietly Lestrade almost thought his mind was making it up. He was yet again stunned by what Sherlock said but he was even more stunned by the dampness begging to seep into his collar.   
“You’re not,” Lestrade whispered in his ear. “You are a magnificent genius and most people just don’t understand that,” he soothed. He felt Sherlock’s hands grasp onto his coat and from fists as though he was trying to keep himself from floating away. Lestrade held him even tighter as a soft sob came from Sherlock.   
“My dad thought I was a freak,” He heard Sherlock whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually got this one up on time! I made this on extra long to make up for last weeks short one I hope you liked it! Only one more chapter left! Hopefully I can get the final chapter up next Friday evening. As always sorry for any mistakes. Thanks for reading! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock opens up to Lestrade. I am awful at chapter summaries. I don't know what else to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

“What?” Lestrade was confused at these words that came seemingly out of nowhere.   
“My dad, he thought we were freaks,” Sherlock was still whispering. “He was ashamed of us, he didn’t come to anything so he wouldn’t be seen with us,” he ended in another soft sob.  
Lestrade thought about this new information for a moment. “Maybe It’s different now you could talk to him,” he offered up hoping to stop Sherlock’s constant flow of tears.   
“I can’t,” Sherlock said weepily. “He died,” he seemed to be trying to keep the tears out of his voice but was failing miserably.  
Lestrade’s eyes widened. He felt his chest tighten at this new information. He wasn’t sure how to go about responding to this seeing as he didn’t know how Sherlock would handle anything in this state. Finally he landed on trying to figure out if he wanted to talk about it. “I’m sorry Sherlock. How long ago was it?” he knew his words were cliché and stupid questions but he didn’t know what else to say.   
“Three days ago,” came the voice from his shoulder.  
“Oh Sherlock,” Lestrade was shocked and pulled Sherlock in ever closer to him if it was possible. “I-I’m sorry” he said lamely unsure what else to say. How do you comfort someone who refuses to show emotion…or used to anyway? He didn’t know how Sherlock had kept it together this long. He had seen Sherlock every day since then working on cases and he had acted completely fine. And of course Lestrade had chosen now to be a total jerk and act like his horrible father.   
“I don’t understand why I fell upset, by all accounts I really shouldn’t care. We weren’t close and death is an ordinary part of life that was always going to happen,” Sherlock sounded confused as he spoke. “I-I d-don’t care,” his voice was shaking as he got to the last part making it an obvious lie.  
“Sherlock it’s normal to care, death is a hard thing and it’s normal to feel regret or sadness at what could have been,” Lestrade could see Sherlock was angry with himself for feeling and probably hadn’t allowed himself to grieve or receive any comfort until now. He felt a lump in his own throat as he thought about what Sherlock was going through. He ran a hand through Sherlock’s curls and rocked him gently. Sherlock was like a small child now and Lestrade for some odd reason he wasn’t sure of felt the need to fix it. Sherlock slowly began putting more and more of his body weight on the D.I. until he was practically on top of him. He heard Sherlock’s breathing even out and slow down gradually. He wasn’t sure how long he had sat there but he was guessing quite a while before he very carefully slid Sherlock’s head onto the pillow. He removed his shoes and pulled a light blue blanket up from the foot of the bed to cover him. Then he paused looking down at the sleeping man. Sherlock’s face was almost the same color as the white pillow and his curls hung messily over his face. Against his better judgement he reached down and gently brushed the stray curls off his forehead. He then walked out flicking off the light and taking the untouched food out with him.   
He looked around the sitting room and saw John sitting in his arm chair sipping at a cup of tea. “He didn’t eat anything and now he’s asleep,” Lestrade felt the need to tell him.   
John sighed. “It’s been about five days since he’s eaten besides tea but probably even more than that since he’s slept properly so I guess it’s alright,” John shook his head at his friends horrid habits. “You can just put that in the fridge,” John nodded toward the refrigerator. Lestrade walked over and put it in next what looked suspiciously like a small dead animal of some kind. Lestrade walked toward the door then stopped and turned to look at John.  
Lestrade coughed and looked down at his feet. “Did Sherlock um did Sherlock tell you that his dad passed away?” Lestrade glanced at John and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.  
John looked up wide eyed. “No did he tell you that?” he seemed caught off guard.   
“Yeah he just did, he uh said it happened three days ago.” Lestrade said nervously. “I may not have been supposed to tell you but he actually seemed pretty upset,” Lestrate mumbled.   
“I knew he was upset about something,” John sounded almost breathless. “But it’s Sherlock so you know…” he trailed off playing with a corner of his tan jumper. “I know he and his dad weren’t close but that probably doesn’t make much of a difference right now, maybe it makes it even worse,” John spoke as he shot worried glances towards Sherlock’s room.   
“You might not want to mention I told you just I case he wants to kill me for telling you but like I said he was pretty upset,” Lestrade’s voice was soft. John nodded at the statement. “He’ll be fine though, he always is,” Lestrade seemed to be trying to reassure the both of them. It wasn't working. He began fussing with the buttons on his coat. He wanted to go check on Sherlock again before he left but he was sure John would find that weird. However John seemed to figure out what he was thinking with that strange sixth doctor sense he had.   
“Hey why don’t you take a glass of water up to his room before you go, you know in case he wakes up during the night,” John suggested a soft smile playing at his lips.  
“Yes of course,” he said a little too quickly he noted and felt a blush bloom across his cheeks. “Good idea he mumbled as he hurried to the kitchen to fill a glass with water. He walked up to Sherlock’s room and slowly opened the door. He looked at the slim figure still asleep in the bad. He had rarely seen Sherlock asleep and it was odd to see him not rushing about. He set the glass on the table and was about to turn around when Sherlock suddenly stirred. He blinked open his eyes and looked up at Lestrade. “I was just bring up some water,” Lestrade said quickly embarrassed at being caught. Sherlock simply nodded looking more tired than ever.   
“Thanks,” he slurred looking down.   
“I’m going to head out just let me know if you need anything,” Lestrade turned to leave. He didn’t expect to hear anything from the detective until a couple days later when there was a case and he could pretend nothing happened. This was Sherlock and he never asked for help unless absolutely necessary. So he was surprised when he heard the voice from behind him.   
“Actually um the funeral is going to be this Saturday,” Sherlock stuttered. “And well I mean if you weren’t doing anything maybe you could maybe come with me,” it was odd for Lestrade to see Sherlock so unsure of himself and to stumble with across his words. “Maybe not though if you’re busy or if you don’t want to,” Sherlock added quickly still looking down.  
“Of course I’ll come Sherlock,” he knew he probably sounded patronizing right now which Sherlock hated but he was just so glad he could do something to help.  
To his surprise Sherlock mumbled out another thank you and fell silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “Sorry if it’s a bit odd,” he mumbled. A thankyou and apologizing this was so not the Sherlock he was used to. Lestrade suddenly realized what Sherlock was hinting at.   
“Sherlock,” he said loudly but Sherlock didn’t look at him. “Sherlock,” he looked up at the older man but couldn’t make eye contact. “I’m not embarrassed,” he spoke slowly and deliberately. He may not be Sherlock’s actual father but right now he was determined to be a better one than he ever was. He caught Sherlock’s eyes “And I’ll always come Sherlock, always.” They hugged for the second time that night and this time Sherlock knew he would be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this was the final chapter. And it was a bit late of course (sorry). I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'll keep posting other works so feel free to keep looking for my posts but this is the last chapter of this story. Thank you all so much!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if I am going to continue this or not. Do you guys think I should? By the way this is also uploaded to my wattpad. Thanks!


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